‘Do I look older?’ he asked.
‘I feel older.’
He showed off
body frailties. Thin flaky skin.
Under the clothes
his bones were bare.
Yet the face was still my father’s
until I came to leave
when it crumpled.
The three poems below have been published on-line at Hedgerow Poems.
discussing the family life of swallows.
Why can’t everyone have this?
my neighbour says.
The rosehips are hanging orange.
gazing at the blazing-with-wonder night sky
knowing I would not fall off.
She promises to make him a coat.
He promises to beat her carpets.
She kisses his little toe.
He kisses her breakfast bar.
She murmurs into his armpit.
He murmurs into her cellar.
She agrees to heaven on earth.
He agrees to a garage conversion.